


Zero Hour

by callmewirkmood



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) RPF, Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen, Short One Shot, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 12:12:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17121137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmewirkmood/pseuds/callmewirkmood
Summary: Shortly before the cameras roll on the first day of filming, Gwilym gets a special visit.





	Zero Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little self-indulgent 'fly-on-the-wall' based on what Gwilym has said in interviews about Brian seeing him in costume for the first time.

"Come on in," Gwilym calls distractedly when there is a soft knock on the door of his trailer, and he glances at his wrist to check if it is zero hour yet, only to remember he isn't wearing a watch.

He's been keyed up all morning, trying to get in the right headspace for what is to be a baptism of fire for him and his three costars - the first day of filming the climactic Live Aid concert scene.

_A concert only a mere billion people saw on the day, and countless more since then._

It is a prospect that could easily overwhelm him if he lets it, so he tries to focus on the details instead of the big picture. Thankfully, attention to detail is this project's life blood - hence, no watch on his wrist for today's shoot. Which may be historically accurate but also bloody impractical.

Looking up, he expects to see a crew member popping their head in the door or one of the guys maybe, equally as nervous as he is and needing to blow off some steam or find some distraction from the mammoth task they're about to undertake - but stepping into his trailer is the impressive figure of Brian May himself.

"Brian. Hey." Gwilym quickly gets to his feet, biting back a curse when he bumps his knee and then, almost, his head in the process - why don't they make these bloody trailers bigger? - and stopping, uncertainly, when he sees the dumbstruck expression on the older man's face. For a moment, he doesn't quite know what to say - they've met before and got on very well, but Gwilym finds he still gets somewhat tongue-tied in the presence of this living legend.

However, right at this moment, it feels as though the roles are reversed. Gwilym even thinks he sees Brian's eyes blink something away, emotions warring close to the surface. For a split second, he wonders if Brian has already clapped eyes on Rami today. In his pale jeans, white wifebeater shirt and studded belt, Rami inhabits Freddie to an alarming degree, an effect that hasn't been missed by anyone on set. Gwilym can't imagine how anyone who knew and loved the man will feel.

For what could be minutes, the two men stare at each other. They are of a height, a helpful coincidence, but really only the beginning of the daunting task that Gwilym knows lies ahead, which is to convince generations of Queen fans and the general moviegoing audience for a couple hours that he _is_ one of the most iconic and talented guitarists the world has ever known. To that end, he has spent countless hours playing the guitar in front of the mirror and researching concert footage, interviews, documentaries - every obscure snippet he could dig up from the depths of the internet. He's studied this man's face and mannerisms meticulously, looking for quirks and things uniquely Brian's - anything to help his performance and make his portrayal more truthful.

He doesn't quite know what to make of the expression currently on Brian's face, however. "Uh... Everything okay?" he checks tentatively. His knee still throbs, but he resists the urge to rub it.

"Yes. I'm sorry, Gwilym." Brian sighs. Amiable and soft-spoken as always, he seems to realize his reaction must have thrown Gwilym a bit. A wistful smile settles on his face. "They didn't tell me you were in full costume already, that's all. They wanted it to be a surprise, I imagine, which it definitely was. I just thought I'd stop by to wish you luck."

"Thank you, Brian. I appreciate it." Gwilym nervously strokes the front of his button-up shirt. "What do you think? Do I look the part?"

"Enough to give _me_ a start, let me tell you, and I've known this old mug for seventy years." Brian steps closer and wraps Gwilym into a spontaneous hug. "Look, don't be nervous, all right? Just shake those jitters off. You'll do great, lad. I have great faith in you and the whole team."

"Thanks," Gwilym squeaks, trying not to lose it right then and there as all that pent-up pressure he's been putting on himself for today is released at once, making his legs go weak at the knees. "That means everything, Brian. I mean it. We just wanna do you proud, you and Roger and John. And Freddie. Him most of all."

Brian squeezes his shoulders with perplexing strength, smiling at him through a haze of brimming tears. In that moment, Gwilym doesn't see the weathered shell but the younger man still very much alive inside, distinctive features of the face he's studied still recognizably there.

It is humbling, really, knowing all that this man has done and contributed. But at the same time, there's great warmth and humility in Brian himself, a humanity that Gwilym can take and bring to the screen. Meeting the man in person has actually been so helpful in that regard.

Then, suddenly, Brian's expression becomes pensive, and he reaches up thoughtfully to ruffle the curls of Gwilym's wig, a prop he's still learning to work with. He's had several fitted, one for each era, and he's been fussing with it ever since the hair people put it on him this morning.

"There," Brian mumbles, adjusting a lock here and there and stepping back to study the result. It seems to meet with his approval, as he nods and the smile returns. "Now you're more me than I ever was."


End file.
